


Water runs Quickly

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alien Culture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna is not impressed by the Doctor's lack of respect for human sleep patterns. She's even less impressed when he pilots the TARDIS directly into a cultural faux-pas and a primitive world under the influence of a sinister extra-terrestrial power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stepping Stones

  
  
The landing was smooth, by TARDIS standards — no one fell down and nothing exploded. Donna still ended up clinging to the console for dear life, but that was only to be expected. One day, she thought, she’d get the Doctor to resume teaching her how to drive. Given how often they crashed it would be difficult for her to do worse.  
  
“So, where are we then?” Donna asked, releasing her white-knuckle grip. She felt a bit cranky, probably a result of a hyperactive Time Lord shaking her out of bed far too early that morning, nattering on something about tortoises. She’d hit him with a pillow, but he hadn’t let up, yammering that, “time is relative in the TARDIS, so you see, it’s not actually morning and…”  
  
Donna had attempted to roll back over and fall asleep, but had failed in the attempt. Again, probably due to a certain hyperactive Time Lord. She had half a mind to switch out all of the tea in the TARDIS kitchens with decafé. She could keep a stash for herself in her room, and then maybe she’d get some rest from the over-caffeinated alien weasel.  
  
And now she was in the console room. Typical. Waiting for the Doctor to tell her the name of the latest planet, and if it wasn’t a spa she’d smack him upside the head; seeing the universe was wonderful and the time of her life and nothing else she’d rather be doing etc. etc. But one day or another Mr. Time Lord had to realise that humans required a solid eight a night to function properly.  
  
“Dunno,” said the Doctor. He grinned and winked at Donna in a way that she supposed was supposed to be smooth. “I, set the randomizer on. Wanted to make it an adventure.”  
  
“Oi, with you it’s all an adventure. You just have to step outside and people start shooting at you.”  
  
“They do not.”  
  
“Do you want another smack spaceman?”  
  
“Not particularly, no.”  
  
“Then where are we then? And was it really so desperate that I couldn’t continue my lay-in?”  
  
“You humans spend a third of your lives on your backs, it’s so dull. Sleep, sleep, sleep.”  
  
“And we end up cranky without it, so watch it Martian. It’s not my fault you sit and drink fifty cuppas and then run around like a bored toddler when you can’t settled down for your nappies.”  
  
The Doctor pulled up the scanner and examined it for an infuriatingly long time. Donna was sure he was delaying his response intentionally. Git. He was waiting for it.  
  
“So?” she urged, feeling even more annoyed at having given into him.  
  
The Doctor promptly swung the scanner back into position before grinning at her.  
  
“Begalit 5.7, local name of Calloo. Isn’t that a brilliant name Donna? Calloo! Calloo! Anyways, they’ve got these cave temples, beautiful, famous the galaxy over, gilded everythings, and they run tours. I’ve never been, but oh, you’re going to love it.”  
  
“Temples? I got out of bed for temples? If someone tries to sacrifice me again —”  
  
“What would they do that for?”  
  
“I don’t bloody well know, but every second planet we go to someone is calling me the flipping flame-headed goddess of the whatsits and tying me to a slab.”  
  
The Doctor paused for a moment, and then continued breathlessly, as if she’d never interrupted him. “And shopping Donna! These dusty little markets filled with nick-knacks, and home crafts, there’s this whole cottage industry around it, and —”  
  
“Shut it, are we going to see it or what?”  
  
“Right, yes, right out the doors.”  
  
“You first spaceman.”  
  
“Oi, Donna, nobody is going to be pointing guns at us.”  
  
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”  
  
The Doctor muttered something under his breath about how nobody ever trusted him. Donna countered with her own muttered “wonder why?”  
  
He went first through the doors, made a show of looking in all directions, and pivoted on his foot to face back into the ship.  
  
“You can come out Donna. No guns.”  
  
“Not yet anyway.”  
  
“I resent that.”  
  
She stepped out. They were inside one of the temples he’d been nattering about. There were, indeed, gilded everythings. Donna just about had to shield her eyes from the shine. Gold and silver and a strangely iridescent purple metal she couldn’t identify covered all of the pews and altars. Murals and statues and mosaics covered every other available surface, all of them equally decorated with precious metals and gem stones. Donna had to admit it was a bit impressive.  
  
The TARDIS’s dented wood and chipping paint looked more than a bit shabby in comparison.  
  
“Bligh me,” said Donna, mentally calculating how many years of temp wages it would take to equal one inch of the place. “They’re a bit gaudy aren’t they?”  
  
“I met Gaudi once,” said the Doctor, missing the point as per usual. “Very strange man, I took him to see his finished cathedral, it would have been too tragic otherwise. Hullo, what’s this?”  
  
He broke away from Donna and strode towards an altar hidden away in a wall nook. It was plain stone, which was a bit strange considering the rest of the temple, but probably, Donna thought, it was marble or something equally pricey. It was a jet black block, smoothed into a perfect rectangle. It came up to about the Doctor’s waist when he stood next to it. A collection of silver statues were lined up on top of it.  
  
Very strange statues. They looked like bits of gear, and poles spanned with wire spirals. In fact, they didn’t really look like statues at all.  
  
“What is it?” asked Donna, walking over.  
  
“What does it look like to you?”  
  
Donna put her hand on the black rock, it was strangely cool and a bit… buzzing, that was the only word to describe it, and there were lights inside. It she looked carefully she could see them blinking on and off in fast, uneven rhythm. It made her dizzy.  
  
“It’s a machine,” she said. “A computer?”  
  
“Yes,” said the Doctor. He rubbed his chin before letting his hands migrate into his hair. “It is, I think. It looks familiar, but it can’t be. Calloo is a devolved colony world, they don’t even have electricity. They’re against technology, I mean, they allow it from outsiders, and in their hospitals, but not in their temples. This is sacrilegious for them. Why is it here?”  
  
“Not going to be upsetting them by landing the TARDIS in their sacred space then?” asked Donna.  
  
“I hadn’t though of that,” said the Doctor.  
  
“Oh, he hadn’t thought of that.”  
  
The Doctor went back to staring at the altar, gnawing at his lip.  
  
“But you don’t understand Donna, this _shouldn’t_ be here.”  
  
She did understand, mostly; she understood that the Doctor had found trouble, and if she’d been less sleep deprived she would have thought of a witty comeback quicker. She was mulling possibilities when shed heard an all too familiar clicking noise.  
  
Donna turned, and sure enough the men with guns had shown up, right on cue. There were four of them. They looked human, and they were wearing bright green jumpers with a red starburst pattern down the front, like they’d dribbled juice on themselves.  
  
“Doctor,” Donna said, trying for his attention.  
  
He waved her off. “Donna, this is important.”  
  
“Doctor,” she said, more sternly, clenching her teeth.  
  
He turned around.  
  
“Oh. Sorry Donna, I guess you win after all. Is it after hours? I’m so, so sorry. We can come back later.”  
  
One of the guard promptly shouted at the Doctor in a language that Donna couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It was all loud rolling vowels with a bit of ape-like hooting thrown in for good measure.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said the Doctor, “could you repeat that?”  
  
The guard shouted again, this time poking the Doctor in the chest none too gently with the business end of his gun. The Doctor staggered back a few steps into the arms of another guard, who immediately grabbed the Doctor’s arms and restrained him. Bulky black iron hand cuffs click-clacked into place.  
  
“Let him go!” said Donna. A guard came up from behind and grabbed her. “Let me go! Doctor, what’s going on, why isn’t the translator working?”  
  
She looked at him. His expression had gone very grave.  
  
“Stop talking,” he said.  
  
Donna was about to open her mouth asking for more explanation when the Doctor cut her off —  
  
“No, seriously Donna, stop talking, not another word. Zip, nothing. I’ll explain later, but for now please be very, very, very quiet.”  
  
He stopped talking abruptly. Donna had the strong urge to yell something vaguely insulting at the guards for pointing guns and handcuffing her, or at the Doctor, for being infuriatingly non-informative. She didn’t. His tone had been too urgent, and something about his eyes said that he really was dead serious about not talking, and she wasn’t about to risk her life disobeying that look.  
  
Further more, _he’d_ stopped talking, and that was practically a miracle knowing how his mouth went off.  
  
The guards frog-marched Donna and the Doctor efficiently out of the temple, holding them at the shoulders and moving too quickly for Donna to really get her feet under her. They slowed down to a more normal speed once they were outside.  
  
The temple had been in a cave, as the Doctor said, not that you would have known from the lush interior and lighting. Outside it was dark and the sky was dotted with stars and alien moons. Donna and the Doctor were forcibly guided, first across a dusty plaza, and then through a maze of wooden alley ways. Mountains rose at their back and the whole settlement dipped sharply against the slop towards a black and roiling sea.  
  
As they approached closer and closer to the water’s edge, Donna began to fear that their captors meant to chuck them into the ocean and let them drown. With the heavy iron handcuffs, she probably would.  
  
She was highly relieved when the guards took a turn off and, instead of depositing them to the mercies of the tide, opened a door on a large, wood and brick building and forced them inside. Once in, there was a branching hallway, another door, and a flight of uneven stairs down to a stone-lined cellar. Donna made it the whole way down without incident, but the Doctor stumbled and was pushed the last few steps, landing in a crumple at the bottom.  
  
The guards went back up the stairs and, without a word, locked the door. The cellar was left in near total darkness.  
  
Donna made her way cautiously to the Doctor. The lack of light was made more disorienting by her inability to stretch her arms out and feel for obstacles. She dropped to an awkward crouch by his side.  
  
“You okay?” she asked.  
  
“Fine,” he gritted, and Donna didn’t press it.  
  
“Donna,” he said, after squirming ineffectually for a few minutes. “Do you think you can get your hands into my left coat pocket?”  
  
“The sonic?”  
  
“Setting 14,” he confirmed.  
  
Donna fished around. It was an awkward procedure, backwards in the dark, made worse by the Doctor’s disorganized pockets. No normal person kept over-ripe bananas in their coat.  
  
Finally her fingers closed over the metallic tube of the screwdriver. It was even more awkward figuring out the settings in the dark, and she managed to nearly deafen them both with a sonic blast before she eventually got it done. She freed the Doctor and then he returned the favour.  
  
As they sat, massaging their wrists and adjusting their eyes to the dark, Donna fixed the Doctor with a glare that he may or may not have been able to see.  
  
“So,” she said, her tone refusing argument, changes of subject, or inane babbling. “Explain.”  
  
The Doctor took a deep breath.  
  
“We broke the silence taboo.”  
  
“The silence taboo?”  
  
“Yes, in some of temples there’s a law against speaking, and well, we spoke, so we’re going to be punished, I think. It will probably just be a wrist slap, the Calloo people aren’t noted for big displays of violence or prison camps or anything. I mean, we’re in the mayor’s basement; they don’t even have a proper jail.”  
  
“They have handcuffs,” Donna pointed out.  
  
“Yes, they do,” said the Doctor. “that’s bizarre. But I’d guess they’re relics, rusty, rusty relics, not put to much use. They didn’t half chafe though.”  
  
“Did you know about this taboo?” asked Donna.  
  
“Well, vaguely, but it’s only certain temples, and I didn’t think — hey, what was that for?”  
  
Donna rubbed her hand. It hadn’t been a strong slap, but her wrist wasn’t feeling so good from the handcuffs. It had been needed though.  
  
“That,” she said, “was for knowing the culture and then not following it. You idiot. We could have just landed outside the temple and not upset the locals.”  
  
“I’m sorry Donna,” he said, not sounding particularly sorry. “but it’s a good thing you know.”  
  
“How’s that?”  
  
“Well, you noticed that the translator was off. And you saw that machine in the temple?”  
  
“The big black rock?”  
  
“That’s a psychic disruptor. It was right scrambling the TARDIS’s translators, actually, now that I’ve been around for awhile it’s giving me a nasty headache as well. Anyways, that’s not good. That shouldn’t be on Calloo. And we wouldn’t have got entrance to that temple if we’d landed outside; it’s guarded around the clock, well, the Calloo clock, which is actually a water wheel. But point is; no one is being allowed in.  
  
“And they shouldn’t have that technology Donna, they really, really shouldn’t. It’s illegal under the Shadow Proclamation for one thing, and last thing I’d like is to see angry rhinos go rampaging across this lovely settleme—”  
  
“So we have to find out why, escape, and get rid of it,” Donna recited.  
  
“Something like that,” said the Doctor.  
  
“And the TARDIS?” said Donna.  
  
“Get her out of the immediate vicinity of the disruptor and she should be able to over-ride its signal…” he trailed off, punctuating the sentence with an involuntary hiss.  
  
Donna’s eyes were getting better at pieces images through the dark. She could see that the Doctor had his right palm pressed against his forehead in a gesture that she recognised from her mother’s migraines.  
  
“It’s the link,” he said, and his voice was far too small for a nine hundred year old time traveller. “Donna, I can’t feel her. I should have noticed right away, but I was too interested in…” He used his open palm to punctuate his words with smacks. “Stupid, stupid Doctor, I should have…”  
  
He stopped, dropping his hand limply into his lap.  
  
“I’m sorry Donna.”  
  
“Hey,” she said, edging around to put a hand on his too-narrow shoulder. He stiffened at the touch. “It’s okay, we’ll get her back.”  
  
“Yes,” he said, his tone shifting from scared child to oncoming storm: “We will.”  
  
He didn’t need to say ‘or else’.


	2. Diverting the flow

A few uncomfortable hours later, the door opened. Donna had been trying to resume her lay-in on the cold, packed dirt floor, rather unsuccessfully. Her attempts were completely dashed by the creak of the cellar door and the reappearance of light into her world.

The guard responsible was a reedish man with unkempt brown hair who looked frightening like the Doctor on an off-day, but shorter, stouter, and with a far less expressive face. He came down the stairs bearing a torch and a tray. Balanced on it were two bowls of greasy looking grey muck, and a pair of thin paper contracts covered in fine, calligraphic script. The guard handed them their bowls. There were no spoons.

The Doctor dug into his enthusiastically with his fingers and his tongue, smiling and nodding at Donna to do the same. His headache had passed, apparently, or at least he’d got better at hiding it.

Donna wagered it was probably the latter knowing him. She looked at the glop the guard was offering and involuntarily inhaled. It smelled like rotten fish porridge. She shoved the bowl to the side, muttering that she wasn’t hungry.

“Aw, Donna,” said the Doctor, “it’s better than you’d think from the smell.”

“It might be, but it still looks like something a cat upchucked in Grandpa’s shed. While you’re stuffing your face, what’s these papers about?”

“They’re confessions and consents to punishment,” said the Doctor.

“Wait, no judge, no jury, they just shove us down a hole for the night and then make us write down that we’re guilty? Well isn’t that wizard. You take me the loveliest places Doctor.”

“We are guilty Donna,” the Doctor said. “We were caught red-handed.”

“This is all your fault, I hope you know.”

The Doctor put down his bowl, and contemplated it for a moment.

“I know,” he said.

He turned to the guard and started rattling and hooting away in the native language. The guard looked initially surprised, but seemed to carry the conversation on with the Doctor. The Doctor got shouty a few times, and Donna had some idea of what he was saying even with the language barrier.

The discussion ended with the guard ripping up one of the contracts and then handing the remaining one, and a glass-tube fountain pen, to the Doctor. The Doctor quickly scrawled a mass of symbols across the blank line at the bottom. Donna assumed that was his name and leaned close to see, but the paper was snatched away and rolled up before she could even try to decipher the hieroglyph-like writing.

The guard seemed uncertain. The Doctor was all smiles.

“What did you just do?” Donna asked.

“Got you off without charge,” said the Doctor. “Well, sort of, it still needs to be confirmed by the Council, and Garuut will do that now —”

As the Doctor spoke the guard nodded curtly at them, picked up the tray and walked back up the stairs He shut the door, taking the light with him.

“After all, it wasn’t your fault,” the Doctor continued, far too quickly for Donna’s liking; she knew trying-to-hide-something when she saw it. “And, like I said, the Calloo’s aren’t a violent people, they understand mistakes. They’re bringing the TARDIS out of the temple too, and she’ll be returned to us. You can go wait there while I take care of things.”

“And what things are those?” she asked.

Consent to punishment, Donna thought. What the hell had the idiot gone and signed himself up for? He swallowed under her steady glare, and Donna started to get some very nasty suspicions.

“Weeelll,” the Doctor said, drawing out the word. “Nothing for you to be worried about. By the Calloo’s law someone has to be punished for speaking in the temple or else the gods will wreck vengeance, but it’s all just ceremonial. I go in front of the head priest, he tells me I’ve been a naughty Time Lord, I promise not to do it again…”

“If it’s so ceremonial, why’d you do all that arguing to get me out of it?” asked Donna, not fooled for a moment by the Doctor’s fake cavalier.

“That was mostly to get the TARDIS out of the priest’s custody,” he said in a rush. “And a bit because I want you to make sure she’s safe afterwards; she’s not going to be feeling well after sitting next to that disruptor half the night.”

“And what about you?” Donna asked. “How are you going to be feeling after, whatever this ceremony thing is. Don’t think you’re fooling me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said the Doctor, flashing her one of his cocky disarmament smiles.

Donna was not so easily put at ease, and the Doctor’s obvious-as-obvious moon boy attempts weren’t helping her temper. She was tired, and sore, and had dirt in her hair, and she was damned worried about him. Maybe he was just a skinny streak of alien nothing, and maybe he could at least pretend at being able to take care of himself, but sometimes Donna caught herself feeling unforgivable maternal towards him.

The cellar door creaked open again, bringing back light and the briefly gone guard — Garuut, did the Doctor say his name was? Something like that.

“It was accepted,” Garuut said, in plain English, or at least, in plainly translated English. His mouth didn’t move to fit the words as normally happened, and everything seemed a bit stilted; like a phone conversation with a delay on one end.

“Ooo, what did I tell you Donna?” said the Doctor, fairly beaming. “Good old girl, get her away from the damper emissions and she’s right back on track. Mostly anyways. Should get better the further she is from the source. I can’t quite hear her yet. I’d say she’s still in transit… ooo… bumpy ride.”

“You’re not changing the subject,” Donna snapped.

Garuut cocked his head to the side, obviously confused.

“I did not realise the woman spoke our language,” he said.

“The woman’s words are being translated by my ship now that it has been removed from the sacred boundaries of your temple,” said the Doctor.

“The woman’s name is Donna and she’s not very happy at the moment.” Donna put her hand on her hips.

“Ah, Donna,” said Garuut, bowing slightly. “You are Noble in your land, are you not?”

Donna looked at the Doctor. He was giving her a goofy smile. Donna rolled her eyes. She could only imagine what he’d said to the guard when he knew she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Donna Noble, that’s me.”

“You will come with me Donna to your noble ship,” said Garuut. He put a hand on Donna’s arm which she roughly shoved off.

“And what about the Doctor?”

“The Doctor must stay here until his punishment has been affected,” said Garuut. “This should be briefly. Already the square is being prepared and word has been sent among the council and the citizens. When the gods have been sated he will be returned to you and you will both be advised to leave.”

“Not good enough,” said Donna. “I’m staying here with him. I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“The punishment is not meant to be lethal,” said Garuut.

“What do you mean ‘not meant to be’?” asked Donna. She looked at the Doctor. He was looking very studiously at the floor. “You know don’t you? What’s going to happen? What are you going to do to him?”

“Donna…” the Doctor said, his voice low and pleading. “Please go.”

“I’m not —”

Garuut’s hand returned to her arm, far firmer in its grip than before.

“You are innocent,” he said. “By our laws you can not be held with the condemned.”

“He’s condemned now?” said Donna. “What does that mean?”

“Only a turn of phrase,” said the Doctor. “Donna, please…”

Garuut’s grip was beginning to bruise. Height-wise, he was shorter than Donna, but his hands were calloused from manual labour, and it was obvious that he was stronger than he looked.

“Oi,” said Donna, as she was guided towards the stairs. “I’ll come back for you Doctor. I’ll help you escape.”

He stared at his feet, apparently not listening.

Donna was tugged up the stairs, still shouting her ignored proclamations of rescue. When they reached the top Garrut shut the door behind and locked it. Donna fixed him with a strong glare.

“I will take you to your ship now Noble,” he said, releasing his grip on her arm.

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then I will not; you are not our prisoner any longer. Your servant cares much for your reputation Noble, that he would take all of your blame upon himself. He is very loyal.”

“He — my what?”

Donna boggled at Garuut, her mind whirling. If the situation were different she’d get some mileage out of this. She still remembered ‘show me some plucky’ in the 1920s.

Garuut started walking along the corridor away from the cellar, and despite her staunch commitment to stay with the Doctor, Donna found herself following him; after all, he had the key.

“He requested that you do not attend the punishment ceremony; that you wait with your ship. Of course, since you are not in our custody any longer, I cannot force you to obey these instructions. Given your servant’s loyalty to your, however, I would lose much opinion of you if you were to ignore them.”

Donna frowned.

“Space Man has another thing coming if he thinks I’m just going to stand by and — ” She cut off mid-thought as something else occurred to her; “Garuut, when will his punishment happen?”

“In three tenths of a turn. The water runs quickly.”

Great, alien time. Usually the TARDIS translated that as well, either into hours or some things called Rels that Donna wasn’t entirely sure of. Still better than bloody cryptic “the water runs quickly”.

“Is that soon or what?”

“The sun is now low, when it is higher there will be justice.”

Still being all cryptic. Right. The corridors inside the building were lit with candles set into wall mounts. The light was dull and flickering, and gave no indication of the time of day. It could be night for all Donna knew.

They turned a corner and came to a door. On the other side was the dirt street they’d been roughly marched up the night before. There were people walking back and forth along the narrow throughway, some with small hand-drawn carts filled with strange-looking produce. A few led animals that resembled purple splotched donkeys. Donna stood in the threshold and squinted up at the sky. It was very blue, but blue covered with white gauze from the sea mists. And the sun was low.

She turned back to look at Garuut who was still standing silently behind her. A solid presence between herself and the Doctor.

“You were going to show me back to the TARDIS?”

“Your ship, yes.”

“Could you do that now then?”

Garuut’s face creased with a smile.

“Noble, you do kindly to listen to your servant’s request.”

“Not for a second,” said Donna. “I just want to make sure the TARDIS is alright and not too far off, seeing as how I’m probably going to have to drag the Doctor’s skinny hide back there whenever you lot get through with him.”

The speed with which Garuut’s smile disappeared confirmed more than a few of Donna’s fears, as did his next words:

“Very wise Noble; very wise.”


	3. Hard Rain

  
  
The TARDIS had been relocated to the rocky beach at the town’s base. Foam from the tide licked at her base. Donna wondered briefly how the village people had managed to transport the ship so far from the cave without motorized vehicles, but brushed that thought aside as unimportant. Probably they’d hauled her on a cart or something —  
  
Hadn’t the Doctor said something about a rough ride?  
  
And, now that she looked, Donna could see parallel wheel tracks in the wet and rocky sand. So that was one mystery solved.  
  
What mattered was that the TARDIS was safe, and that meant there’d be somewhere to get back to once the Doctor had finished mucking about with his inflated martyr complex.  
  
“The tide doesn’t get any higher than this?” Donna asked, looking at the waves lapping a bit too close for comfort.  
  
“No Noble,” said Garuut. “This is high tide. The waves are only higher during a storm. Your ship will not be washed away.”  
  
“Unless there’s a storm or a ruddy great wave chops up,” said Donna.  
  
“Yes,” Garuut confirmed, “but you will leave before anything like that can happen.”  
  
“Not bloody likely,” Donna muttered under her breath. No matter what the Doctor’s up-coming punishment entailed, and she was still nervous about that, Donna knew that he wouldn’t leave until he’d solved the mystery of the psychic dampener thingy. He was like a limpet once he got his mind stuck on something. Never mind common sense, but then, he’d obviously been severely short-changed by nature on that front.  
  
Donna put one hand on the front of the TARDIS. She felt the rough wood, slightly damp from spray, give its familiar vibration under her fingers. She wanted to go in and get a change of clothes and a shower. She probably could, except she still had no idea how much time she was working with. She cursed under her breath. If the Doctor were with her he could put the ship into a whatsit, a temporal orbit, and then she wouldn’t have to bother about time at all. She could grab a cuppa and a nap and still be on schedule.  
  
Donna lowered her hand. Garuut was still standing beside her. He had her fixed with a froggish stare. Probably he was waiting for her to go inside so he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. She wouldn’t give him any such satisfaction. He wasn’t asking why the ship was so small either, or made out of wood, but then, Donna remembered what the Doctor had said about this planet being a technological backwater; maybe Garaat was just too stone age know what space ships were supposed to look like. Except…  
  
“The Doctor said you had a tourist trade here, that would mean spaceports and stuff. Where’s that then.”  
  
“Gone,” said Garuut.  
  
“You mean you don’t have visitors anymore?”  
  
“On occasion we meet people who have no yet heard that it is forbidden, and they are turned away on landing. These are honest mistakes.”  
  
“And ours wasn’t?” snapped Donna. Though really, she thought, putting the Doctor and honest together made her head hurt. He could pretend innocence all he liked, but she knew that he knew exactly what he was doing whenever he wandered into these types of situations. Mostly, anyways.  
  
Garuut shrugged.  
  
“You were in the Great Temple. The gods must be sated. It is not the will of man.”  
  
“Right,” said Donna. “If ever I meet one of these gods I’m going to give them the boot up the rear.”  
  
Garuut blanched.  
  
“Do not say such things,” he urged, and for the first time, something like emotion broke into his voice. “You servant was very brave, but if you say such things it will be in vain. The gods will demand punishment from the sinner and it will not be deterred.”  
  
“About my servant,” said Donna. “I’ll be wanting to get back to him now.” She looked up at the sun. It was half-way to noon already, though it hadn’t been that far from the place where they’d been kept prisoner to the beach and it had been morning (albeit late morning) when they’d left.  
  
“He did not want you to see,” said Garuut.  
  
“I’m the noble woman,” said Donna. “I think I’ll decide what I will and will not see. Besides, that prawn thinks he’s being all stoic and the hero trying to protect me. He needs me there, and that’s that.”  
  
Garuut nodded slightly. “Your will is strong.”  
  
“Yes it is,” said Donna. She followed as her guard-turned-guide started leading her away from the beach and back up through the town’s twisting dirt and cobble streets. It took the better part of an hour by Donna’s calculations to get to the town square in front of the cave they’d landed in. By that time the sun really was high in the sky.  
  
Donna had asked Garuut several times along the journey what exactly was going to happen to the Doctor soon, but he’d never given a satisfactory reply; either “he will sate the gods” or “he didn’t want you to see” or “you will know when you observe”. None of which really bolstered Donna’s confidence. When she’d out and out shouted for an answer he’d told her that it was wrong to speak of the punishment of the gods, at which point Donna had relented. They’d finished the trek in uneasy silence.  
  
The square was crowded with people come to see the spectacle. They ringed a central area where two wooden posts had been erected approximately a meter apart. Donna got a queasy feeling looking at those posts. She stayed on the outskirts of the crowd. She was taller than most of the people, so she got a good enough view. She didn’t particularly stand out; red hair was apparently more common here than it was on Earth.  
  
Garuut stayed tagged to her side. Donna was getting a bit annoyed by his persistent presence, but she didn’t really want to tell him to shove off. Tight-lipped as he was, he was her only real link with the people of this place.  
  
She wondered how long she’d have to wait, when the crowd parted to her left and a procession came up from the town. At the front were some obvious big-wigs dressed in red robes and some incredibly inane looking gilded and mirrored hats. Following them were the burly guards from the night before with the Doctor held between them.  
  
Donna bit her lip as she watched. The Doctor was handcuffed again, and the guards were holding his shoulders, but he looked otherwise fine. They hadn’t beat him or anything since Donna left, and she’d been afraid of that. He wasn’t wearing his coat or suit jacket, and he looked very young in his light blue shirt sleeves. Almost naked really; Donna hadn’t seen him with his suit jacket off since the day she’d met him.  
  
He wasn’t trying to escape.  
  
The guards let go of him when the procession entered the clearing at the centre of the crowd. The Doctor walked of his own free will to the pair of pillars in the center. The guards uncuffed him and tied the Doctor’s arms to the posts so that he was spread-eagle between them. He was turned away from Donna, so she couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t appear to be struggling. He wasn’t saying anything either.  
  
One of the big wigs unfurled a scroll from their robe pocket and began reading:  
  
“As consequence for utterances in the temple of the…”  
  
The voice was loud and proud, and Donna had the intense desire to break free from the crowd and kick its owner; to rescue the Doctor from where he was hanging resignedly between the two posts. No way her spaceman would consent to any of this without a fight. They’d drugged him or something.  
  
“…And so he has consented to take upon himself both his own punishment and that of his lady…”  
  
Donna’s ears caught the last phrase and she suddenly became far more attentive of the speech. She’d suspected as much, but it didn’t make it easier hearing.  
  
“…One lash for every word spoken. In the eyes of the gods…”  
  
Donna’s heart dropped. For every word. The idiot. The stupid space dumbo. The — How many words had they spoken in the cave; when had the guards started counting? He’d told her to be quiet, and how many more words had he used to do that? She wasn’t going to stand for this. He was thin as a whip, never mind him getting hit by one. He might babble on about being stronger than he looked, and, admittedly he’d proved that more than a few times, but she wasn’t just about to stand by while he got thrashed to within an inch of his life.  
  
Even if he was an idiot who probably deserved it.  
  
She took a step forward, only to be halted by Garuut grabbing her wrist.  
  
“Let me go!”  
  
“I will not Noble lady.”  
  
“I’m not a bleeding Noble lady, well I am, but I’m not — and he’s not my bleeding servant, and I’m not going to let him do this. I’m not.”  
  
“He is your friend,” said Garuut.  
  
“Yes,” said Donna, “he is.”  
  
“And he cares for you deeply?”  
  
“Yes, I think he does, in his own daft way. But if this is how he wants to show it I’d rather he didn’t.”  
  
“The gods smile upon such things.”  
  
“The gods can go and —” Donna stopped, realising that some people in the crowd had turned to look at her, and that this probably wasn’t the best place for such outbursts when she could too-easily be hauled down and strung up beside the Doctor, and what would _that_ achieve. “Bless the fields, and the sky, and, um, the clouds,” Donna finished lamely.  
  
She glared at Garuut. He did not release his grip on her wrist, but he lessened it some. The people in the crowd who had been staring lost interest and looked away. Though at least one muttered something dark-sounding before doing so.  
  
In the centre of the plaza the red-robed priest reading the announcement finished his piece and rolled up his scroll. One of the burly guards took up the whip, and someone shouted “Begin!”  
  
Donna forced herself to watch the whole thing. She couldn’t stop trying to count the strokes and remember how many words were spoken, which were hers and which were his. Through it all the Doctor didn’t make a sound, and Donna hoped that meant that he really had been drugged; that he was too doped up to feel any of this. Though, if she was honest with herself, that was unlikely.  
  
Donna was glad she couldn’t see his face. That would have been too much. As it was she watched through a blur of tears.  
  
“I’m going to kill him for this,” she sniffed. Garuut squeezed her arm in way that was obviously meant to be reassuring.  
  
When it finally ended and the guard untied the restraints holding him up, the Doctor collapsed bonelessly to the wet earth. The guard helped him up, and again the crowd parted, allowing the procession to leave.  
  
“Where’s he going?” asked Donna. “Where are they taking him now? Wasn’t that enough?”  
  
Garuut finally let go of her.  
  
“They are taking him back to the Council Chambers,” he said.  
  
“What, to throw him into the dudgeon again? To torture him some more?”  
  
“To return his possessions and to have him sign an affidavit that he has fulfilled the trials necessary to appease the gods.”  
  
“And then he’ll be released?” said Donna.  
  
“And then he will be released,” Garuut confirmed.  
  
“Right then,” said Donna, turning to follow the procession. “I know where I’m going.”


	4. Healing Springs

  
  
The crowd dispersing made it difficult to move quickly. It wasn’t that there was a vast amount of people; maybe three hundred if Donna was looking for the top-side of an estimate, but the town’s wood-paved streets were narrow and easily jammed. She would have taken longer if it weren’t for Garuut showing her around alternate routes and by-ways.  
  
By the time they'd reached the Council Chamber, the Doctor had already disappeared inside. Garuut looked up at the sun which was now leaning towards dusk. Donna was slightly unnerved by how fast time moved on this world; it wasn’t natural.  
  
“I must take meal with my family,” said Garuut. “You remember the way back to your ship.”  
  
“The sea makes a rather unmissable landmark,” said Donna. Garuut nodded and left. He was quickly lost to vision around a corner.  
  
Donna sank to the ground, resting her back against the Council Chamber’s cool brick outer wall. The bricks were all different shapes, obviously handmade. The whole town was the picture of homespun rustic, and then there was the cave in all its gilded slender, and the plaza which was now stained with the Doctor’s blood. Donna wanted to leave.  
  
She waited. Every time the main door swung open she’d jump up and turn to see if it was the Doctor; it wasn’t. Half a dozen false calls later, she wasn’t jumping any more. She was twirling patterns in the dust with her finger. She didn’t realise anyone had exited the building until she heard a familiar voice calling her name:  
  
“Donna?”  
  
She lifted her head. He was standing just outside the door, once again dressed in his suit jacket and coat. To the casual eye he looked fine. But Donna could see that he was a touch too pale; that his feet were just a bit too firmly planted.  
  
He walked towards her as she rose up to greet him, and his steps had a planned consistency that Donna wasn’t buying.  
  
“You were supposed to wait back at the TARDIS,” he said, not accusing, just stating fact.  
  
“You idiot.” Donna repressed the desire to slap him into next Christmas. She knew that fine as he was trying to look, he was anything but under that fabric shell.  
  
The Doctor rolled his eyes and looked around keenly.  
  
“Right then,” he said, and started walking down the street, in the wrong direction.  
  
“Oi,” Donna said, "Wrong way. The TARDIS is down by the beach.”  
  
“Is she? I’m not going to the TARDIS though. You should. But I’m going to go see about disabling a certain psychic dampener. I mean they _really_ shouldn’t have that, and when I asked around the Grand Calloo Council they all just looked at me like I’d dribbled on my shirt. I don’t think they have the slightest clue what it is, most, well, those priests were a bit suspicious, but it’s affecting their behaviour patterns that’s for sure. Too subtle to pick up, but lots of little things, and I need to find out why —”  
  
“Doctor,” said Donna. She put a hand on his back, noting how he winced under the light touch.  
  
“I’m fine Donna.”  
  
“No, you aren’t.”  
  
“It was only a slap on the wrist.”  
  
That set her off.  
  
“Slap on the wrist? Slap on the bloody wrist? I’d like to see what you call an actual beating then. I was in the square watching Doctor, and that wasn’t a bloody slap on your bloody Martian wrist. That was… that was…”  
  
“I’m sorry Donna.”  
  
“You’d bloody better well be. First you pull me out of bed and then you do that. Next time you want to play at being the martyr you ask first.”  
  
“I couldn’t, there wasn’t time, and besides, I can handle it.”  
  
“You’re an absolutely idiot you know that?”  
  
“Quite probably.”  
  
“Right, cave later, overthrowing the evil alien plot later. We’re going back to the TARDIS right now to get you fixed up.”  
  
“Donna, honestly, I’m fine. Absolutely fine. I heal faster than you, and I’m fine.”  
  
“Like bloody hell you are.”  
  
He wavered on his feet for a moment. He kept looking back down the street towards the cave, and back to Donna. She put her hands on her hips, daring him to defy her.  
  
“Right,” he said eventually. “We’ll go back to the TARDIS, just to check she’s alright. The connection hasn’t been completely re-established yet, and I don’t want to think what prolonged exposed might be doing to her pyschotronic circuitry. And I’ll be able to run some scans from there; maybe get a better grasp on the situation…”  
  
“Well come on then,” said Donna. “Enough standing around chatting about it; I want to GO.”  
  
She took his arm and started leading him home.  
  
He kept nattering on about the psychic dampener at first; mostly just stating again and again how the Callooians really shouldn’t have one. It would have got on Donna’s last nerve if she hadn’t noticed how mumbling and frantic his voice was. He was leaning too far into her grip on his arm. She transferred it to his hand, squeezing gently, and trying to tune out his rant. The meaning wasn’t in the words at the moment;  
  
He could explain the plot later. For the moment he needed the TARDIS, and help, whether he’d admit it or not.  
  
It was night by the time they reached the beach.  
  
“Gets dark fast here,” Donna observed.  
  
The Doctor dug limply into his pocket for the TARDIS key. He leaned against the ship’s frame as he searched for the keyhole.  
  
“19 hour day,” he said. The key turned and the doors pushed open. “And it’s winter, bound to be a bit short. Still… it feels compressed here.”  
  
He let out a deep sigh as he entered the console room. Donna was quick up the ramp behind him. He stationed himself by the control panel, rubbing make-shift repairs and add ons. The ship hummed under his touch.  
  
“Sorry girl,” the Doctor said softly. He looked weary in the green light. His face was thin, pinched in the middle.  
  
“Right,” Donna said loudly. “We're getting you patched up. Now.”  
  
“Honestly Donna…” the Doctor said. “I’m…”  
  
“Now,” Donna said. She wasn’t taking any argument. “You look dead on your feet, and you aren’t going to just shrug that off and go run around until you collapse. I won’t stand for it.”  
  
“I only look tired because I’m healing,” the Doctor protested as Donna lead him down the hall.  
  
“Oh, no, really?” Donna said. They reached the medical room. It had rows of beds in it, as if it had been set up as fully functioning hospital at some point. Donna steered the Doctor to the nearest bed, forcing him to sit.  
  
She wasn’t an expert at this sort of thing. She had her basic first aid because that was something the temping agency required, probably to prevent law suits. She’d never actually put it into practice.  
  
“I just need a cup of tea, one of those little sandwiches without the crust, a plateful of chips, and I’ll be fine.”  
  
“What, no anchovies?” Donna asked.  
  
The Doctor made a face.  
  
“I wasn’t poisoned.”  
  
“Well that’s one thing at least. Take your coat and shirt off.”  
  
“Donna I —”  
  
“Well I can hardly treat you through five layers of cloth can I? Honestly, I don’t know how you don’t roast under all those clothes.’  
  
“Different biology,” the Doctor said. He grudgingly started shrugging out of his coat. The twisting motion made him bite his lip.  
  
“I told you!” said Donna.  
  
The Doctor said nothing. When he’d finished wiggling out of his coat his placed it neatly at the foot of the bed, shooting Donna an irate look as he did so. Donna however, was less concerned with his idiotic Time Lord pride and more-so with the wetness bleeding through his suit jacket.  
  
“Oh my —”  
  
“It’s looks worse than it is, honest.”  
  
“Whatever you say spaceman.”  
  
He let her help him with the suit jacket. The shirt underneath she didn’t even bother with. Donna grabbed a pair of scissors from the nearest cabinet and did her best to trim the sodden strips away. She sat him back down on the bed, where he crouched over into himself, muttering darkly like a little boy forced to take a bath.  
  
When she went back to the cabinet to replace the scissors, Donna found a pitcher of water, a cloth, some disinfectant, and a package of something called ‘ultra skin’ sat out waiting for her. Not questioning it, she took the supplies back to her patient.  
  
The Doctor winced and shrugged away from her as she cleaned his back. It actually wasn’t as bad as she’d have thought once the blood was wiped away. Donna had been expecting him to be completely flayed, but there were large portions of untouched skin between the ragged welts, and even those were already starting to scab over. She went over them all with a liberal application of the pasty ‘ultra skin’.  
  
“Go easy with that stuff,” said the Doctor. “It’s not cheap.”  
  
Donna was tempted to ignore him and continue slathering, but common-sense told her that she’d probably have to patch him up again one day, or he’d have to spread the gunk on her, and his wounds really weren’t that bad.  
  
“Are you done yet?” the Doctor asked.  
  
“Quite being so impatient,” snapped Donna. “Yes, fine, I’m done.”  
  
“Good.” The Doctor jumped up. He tried to stretch his arms over his head, flinching a the pull on the fake skin holding his back together. He snatched up his coat and suit jacket from where he’d laid them. “I’ll just go get dressed then.”  
  
Donna rolled her eyes.  
  
“I’m getting a cuppa.”


End file.
